Page 99 of Brambles and Bellflowers
The tight feeling in my chest wasn’t guilt.
It was vengeance.
“You’ve rarely been wrong about people,andhe’s beenyour friend for ten years. You chose him for a reason,” Miles said, maintaining his delusions.
I bit my tongue. I couldn’t respond without questioning my own past judgment.
“I think,” he continued, “you still believe there’s something good about him, something redeemable, and it’s proof that you still have hope in this world.”
18
I got dressedwhile Miles packed our few supplies into a makeshift backpack made from the blanket. It wasn’t very long before we were leaving our overnight shelter.
He led me down through the rocky cliffs—which, in daylight, were far more treacherous than they appeared in the dark—while he used a walking stick to point out where I was to follow in the moments we couldn’t walk side-by-side.
“Are we almost there yet?” I asked. “This is taking forever.”
I couldn’t see over the ledge and instead focused on hugging the rock as I sidestepped down a narrow portion of the trail. I didn’t have anything against heights, but it wouldn’t be prudent for survival to stare at the ground during this journey.
How long had it been? We had to be almost there. We’d been at this for ages.
“Nobody likes whining,” Miles replied. He closed his hand over mine and pulled me closer to him. “Besides, it’s only been five minutes. It shouldn’t be that much longer, though; I found a shortcut.”
I glanced at him, and my heart skipped. Why was he so happy?
“What’s with that face?” I asked. Was he even watching where we were going?
“Nothing’s wrong.” His smile widened. “Maybe I like spending time with you. I can’t believe you came all this way to see me.”
Why was he going on about thisnow? Besides, if that made him happy, how would he feel knowing I couldn’t stand to have him out of sight for more than a few moments?
He’d probably get a kick out of that.
“Do you like spending time with me too?” he asked, blinking down at me, and my chest twisted.
“Maybe not while we’re climbing down a cliff,” I muttered, breaking my resolve and looking toward the ground. “But sure,” I added, looking back to him. “When nobody gets hurt.” The cut on his cheek stood out against his pale skin, and my stomach clenched. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” he asked, then frowned as he touched his jaw. “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it.” He stomped forward. I could barely hear him as he added, “It’s my fault anyway.”
“Miles—” I began, but he cut me off.
“Once we get home, I’m going to make you a chocolate cake so huge you’ll never be able to finish it.”
The man was underestimating my love for chocolate cake.
“Do you like cooking for me?” I asked.
“I do.” He glanced back at me. “You’re the only one who appreciates it.”
My face warmed as he squeezed my hand, and my heart fluttered in nervousness. I wasn’t sure if he’d agree, but what if this was something that we could do to spend time together? “Can I cook with you?”
“What—” Miles let go of my hand, twisting to face me.
The motion threw him off balance, and he shouted as his feet slipped. Before I could move, he’d fallen from my reach and tumbled the last fifteen feet down the incline.
“Miles!” My voice escaped in a strangled scream. He landed on his side—blood staining the ground around him—and didn’t move. I slid down the gravel the rest of the way down the hill, and once at the bottom, I fell to my knees beside him.
“Miles!” I repeated. He was turned away from me, and my terror rose. I was afraid to touch him.
